


Wingman

by IsThereARealLife



Series: Hurts Like Heaven [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bisexual Character, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsThereARealLife/pseuds/IsThereARealLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War takes its toll on the best of people. When Riley is scheduled to ship out again, he finds himself at a crossroads. Should he confess his biggest secret or potentially take it to the grave?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wingman

**Author's Note:**

> I dont know how or why this happened. have fun :)  
> blame [ishita](http://www.akadefenders.tumblr.com) for this (or the summary at least)

Riley slumps down on the bar stool next to Sam. Quietly, almost strangely quiet, he says, “Looking good, Wilson.” A few women down the end and a guy to his right glance over briefly, but Sam shakes his head.

“Not tonight Riley. Been a long day… I just wanna get drunk with my friend and crash in front of the TV.” He gestures to the bartender for two beers.

“Sorry man… Uh… habit, y’know.”

“Do this a lot, don’t we…”

Riley’s lips twitch sadly. “Yeah… Yeah we do.”

“You alright man?”

He takes a long swig from his beer. “I’m fine… Just… I’ve had a long day too.”

There’s a pause. Comfortable, between friends. But waiting as well. “You wanna talk about it?” Sam eventually asks.

“No. Dude. You spent the day in the cemetery, your time now, bro. Look, I know it’s been five years—”

“Wait, you remember that?”

“Of course I remember what day it is. You’re my best friend.”

Sam downs the rest of his drink and flags the bartender down for another. “Yeah, well thanks anyway. And I am just gonna get drunk and not think about it. What happened to you today?”

Riley shakes his head and frowns. He pauses, trying to drag out the moment before things change, before things go to shit. Sam is starting to eye him weirdly. Say it before he beats it out of him. “I ah… I got my orders. Iraq again. Shipping out in two weeks.”

Sam is silent for eons, tense. Maybe waiting for a punchline, or something to make the situation better. It stretches on and on, and when he finally makes a sound, he simply says, “I think we’re gonna need something stronger.”

Three rounds of shots later, they’re both leaning closer together, hunched over new beers to cut the stronger stuff. “Sucks, man.” Sam says.

“Yeah,” Riley slurs back. “Wish you were comin’ with me.”

“Yeah.”

There’s some more shots, conversation loosens again. They migrate to a booth against the wall, talking about nothing and everything.

But definitely not that. And definitely not the other thing. The other thing that’s been hanging over Riley’s head for the past three weeks. 

But the problem is, Riley never was very good at holding liquor. By this point in the evening, he’s getting close to blabbing. Too close. But the thing is, he’s also lost any care for holding his tongue, or for stopping drinking before he says something that ruins everything.

It’s nearing midnight when Sam calls for one last shot each, ‘for the road’. Riley just goes with it. Because why the hell not?

They’re walking down the street now, it’s only a few blocks to his apartment. Sam usually crashes on the couch after nights like this.

His buzz is nice. He’s not forgotten where he has to go in just two weeks, without his friend, but he just doesn’t care. Because he’s here, and Sam’s here, and they’re just hanging out like the world isn’t ending. And really, what’s the harm? Riley’ll be gone, if it fucks everything up, he won’t need to deal with the fallout of losing his best friend and still being in the same city.

But no, he can’t, the tiny sober part of his brain tries to reason. He still won’t have anyone over there, but at least he’ll have someone to write to, someone who understands.

But, maybe it won’t screw up. Oh but it will. It always will.

But…

“Hey Sam…?”

“Yeah Riley?”

He looks down at his shoes. Avoids looking his friend in the eye. Avoids the inevitable horror that will undoubtedly appear. “What if I said I meant it?”

Now Sam looks confused. Which, yeah understandable. He really didn’t clarify. “Before. When I said you looked good…”

Sam snorts, grinning. “Hey, I look awesome. You’re only tellin’ the truth. We all know that.” He laughs.

It’s dark, only a few street lights around. They highlight his features like a fancy photograph. Easy and relaxed and more than a bit tipsy.

“Aw hell,” he exclaims suddenly. “With you gone, I won’t have my wingman anymore. How will I get people to notice my good looks?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out…” Riley smiles, but it’s weak. He’s gotta say something, he’s gotta say it now. “What if… what if I didn’t… want to be your wingman anymore though?”

Sam freezes. “What do you mean, Riley?” They’re in front of Riley’s building now, under a dim flickering streetlight. The only one that works on the whole block.

“I mean… I mean… I don’t know what I mean Sam, don’t worry ‘bout it…” 

But Sam won’t let up. “Nah, you meant something. Riley, please, what did you mean? You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” He’s getting right up in Riley’s space now. Angry. Oh no.

“No!” Riley exclaims. No no no no no. This is all wrong. This is so not what he meant. “That’s not at all what I meant.” He stops talking again. Talking is hard.

“What then?!” Sam pushes against Riley’s shoulders.

“I don’t wanna watch!” he cries back. “I don’t wanna be the one who helps you get with random stranger after random stranger after… after random stranger when… when…” Talking is hard and also slow. Maybe he can just show him… Yeah, good idea… good… “Sam…”

“Yeah Riley?”

He leans even closer. He can see his eyelashes, the little scar on his cheek from their last tour, the tiny crinkles in his forehead from laughing too much at some stupid thing Riley did. 

That list of stupid things is about to be expanded. He leans in further, he can feel Sam’s breath, and then their lips meet, just briefly, before Riley pulls away again. “When I’m always right here next to you.”

He goes to pull away further, muttering, “You can still take the couch if you want to, I promise I’m not gonna—mmf” The rest of his words are silenced when Sam catches him and stops his progress, pressing right back in, hot against his lips. He keeps pushing until Riley’s back hits the brick wall with a thump. Riley gasps.

“You know what?” Sam mumbles, still so close. “I don’t want you to be my wingman anymore either.”

 

Somehow they both manage to stumble upstairs and collapse on the bed. Nothing happens, they’re both way too tipsy and it would never be a good idea. In the morning, when they’re sober, they’ll discuss it. For tonight though, both are content to make out a little and fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, forgetting about what the future holds, and blissfully unaware of the official, military-stamped letter waiting in Sam’s mailbox.

  


**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are my lifeblood. please let me know what you think :)
> 
> thanks must also go to ishita for being a perfect beta and crying with me over sad headcanons
> 
> im on tumblr [here](http://www.ismylifejustfantasy.tumblr.com) if you wanna come say hi :)


End file.
